Ordinary day and insight that gets lodged in the head like a seed in the tooth
Today, I wore a white tee-shirt, faded blue jeans and scarlet flats. At work, I reviewed a few things and skimmed through a 143 page document. Not much registered but I know what exactly to review tomorrow.
I surfed the Internet a little bit and thought of a few friends. One of them is taking up tarot-card reading soon. Another one seems to have gotten her life on track after her divorce. Another one is moving out of his house and is bravely putting together a mental system to combat a loneliness that will surely befall him in the early days. I saw an interview by Robert Schwartz on pre-birth planning (the premise that the soul chooses exactly the kind of experiences it will go through in its incarnate form). He spoke of a woman who had once been wounded by a bomb so badly that her eyeballs were seared and sharpnels had entered them. At the hospital, doctors had to use magnets to hold her eyeballs together to work on her.
I was eating my tiffin of fruits: watermelons, grapes, and pomegranate seeds. It suddenly occured to me - like it hadn't occured this way earlier...with such sudden, throbbing insularity - that there are so many people. So many people and so many lives. So many lives and so much living.
And yet, this miasma of coagulated destinies and hardships and overcoming and personal stories - all of these million tiny motes of fated beings - when they all come together and be together - they are still called 'Life'.
And life is singular.
I surfed the Internet a little bit and thought of a few friends. One of them is taking up tarot-card reading soon. Another one seems to have gotten her life on track after her divorce. Another one is moving out of his house and is bravely putting together a mental system to combat a loneliness that will surely befall him in the early days. I saw an interview by Robert Schwartz on pre-birth planning (the premise that the soul chooses exactly the kind of experiences it will go through in its incarnate form). He spoke of a woman who had once been wounded by a bomb so badly that her eyeballs were seared and sharpnels had entered them. At the hospital, doctors had to use magnets to hold her eyeballs together to work on her.
I was eating my tiffin of fruits: watermelons, grapes, and pomegranate seeds. It suddenly occured to me - like it hadn't occured this way earlier...with such sudden, throbbing insularity - that there are so many people. So many people and so many lives. So many lives and so much living.
And yet, this miasma of coagulated destinies and hardships and overcoming and personal stories - all of these million tiny motes of fated beings - when they all come together and be together - they are still called 'Life'.
And life is singular.
Comments
:-) somedays I think.